La Vie est Ailleurs (ONE SHOT)
by Andromeda Writes
Summary: Pre-debut Crystal!Makoto drabble. With a broken heart and an indescribable yearning, Makoto Kino is lost, and hell-bent on finding herself once again.


**Author's Note**: (Literal title translation: "Life is Elsewhere") I haven't written anything in so long. Jesus Christ. I've been going through a lot lately. Hopefully I get back into this whole writing thing soon! This story is pretty personal, but I hope you guys like it! I didn't do too much editing on it so haha, don't hate me. I wrote it in like one day. What can you do?

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><p>It was his birthday.<p>

It was the first thing that crossed her mind as she rose back into consciousness at the sound of her alarm.

He was always the first thing on her mind in the mornings (and the last thing at night, though she'd never admit it), but it was his birthday. It was different. That was enough to set her routine off track.

Typically, Makoto was out of bed and in the shower by 7, but she stayed in bed for fifteen extra minutes and stared at the phone on her nightstand. It was an older model smartphone. Her neighbor at her old building had no use for it six or seven months back and offered it to the young orphan for free. Makoto, being more a ward of the state than a real person – or at least, that's how she felt, was able to get a basic phone plan for next to nothing each month. That was nice.

She resolved that, at the end of the day, she wouldn't ruin his birthday by contacting him. He didn't want to hear from her, she knew that. Not from someone he didn't care about anymore. From someone whom, perhaps, he'd never cared about. Instead, she pulled her thoughts together and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The show had to go on.

She moved through the small apartment with ease, watering her plants as she turned on the stovetop to make breakfast, her soaked hair wrapped tightly in a towel atop her head and a pair of fresh clothes thrown on.

The only electronic she had aside from her old cell phone was an even older television, no bigger than 16 inches and tucked away in a corner of one of the kitchen counters, right next to the cheap fridge. She wasn't allowed much time to collect things before she was taken from her parents' home after they'd passed, and most of what she did take had to be sold, but Makoto had kept the TV. It was nice to have in the kitchen when she wanted to try out new recipes – cooking shows were her favorites, anyway.

Makoto changed the channel to the news with the buttons on the side, and was greeted with a news story about a carnival that had taken place at one of the middle schools in a nearby district. She let the anchorwoman's voice fade into background noise as she reached into the fridge for the eggs.

As she pulled back and shut the door, she caught a glimpse of blonde buns and her eyes were immediately drawn to the screen. The girl had to be about her age and she was bouncing around the screen like a small child that'd eaten way too many pieces of candy, a blue-haired girl – her friend, she assumed – calling out to her. Something about the girl set Makoto on edge as the camera focused back onto the anchorwoman once again. She wasn't so much suspicious as she was curious. She felt a tug in her chest that said she needed to be where that girl was, whoever she was. She sighed before changing the channel. What a silly thought, that she should just… pick up and leave. It wasn't like she had a life there, but she'd just moved there a few months ago! Breaking her lease would be pretty pricey. Her landlord was relatively laid back and understanding of her predicament, but that seemed to be a bit too bothersome. Contrary to popular belief, Makoto _hated _being bothersome. Instead, she pushed the thought away and cracked an egg against the side of the frying pan, smoothly spilling the egg into it, the yolk akin to the bright sun.

She frowned as she flipped it over perfectly without breaking the yolk, her mind unwillingly shifting to the boy who broke her heart completely in half, the one who she was sure was out at that very moment enjoying himself. Probably with that girl he'd abandoned her for. She wouldn't cry over him – she hadn't done it in a while – but the dull ache was ever-present.

Makoto walked away from the kitchen briefly, pulling her hair from the towel and hanging it over a bar in the bathroom, her hair framing her face with wet curls. She ran a comb through it before making a quick dash back to the kitchen to scoop the perfectly cooked egg onto her plate. Without much of an appetite, she did nothing more than poke at it; she hadn't even made anything else to have with it. After fifteen minutes of sitting at the table and trying to convince herself that she needed to eat breakfast, she gave up and threw it away.

At that point, she wasn't sure why she was so on edge. Was it because of what day it was? Or was it because she felt something coming, something important? She shrugged it off.

She made the short trek to the front door and opened it to retrieve the paper that was set directly on top of her 'Welcome' mat. No one ever visited, but it made the place feel a bit more like home. Besides, it was one of the things she'd grabbed during her last trip through her childhood home, a sentimental piece of past times.

Taking a seat on the shabby couch that marked the living room area, she unrolled the paper. The front page was a story about Sailor Moon. Again, that familiar tug told her that she had to go, she had to go somewhere else. Still, she pushed the weird gut feeling aside once again and turned through the pages, finally stumbling upon a small bit of coverage on the "Teenagers' Technology Craze" and how it's affecting them and their relationships. It was stupid, and blatantly misunderstood exactly why teens used their cell phones so much, but it was something to amuse herself with, at least.

The topic forced her mind to shift to him again, and about the way he'd left in paragraphs. The ten minute long voicemail left for her as she slept, the feeling she got when she awoke to a notification from Senpai, how he'd been acting different lately, sure, but everything was probably fine! And, finally, how he'd admitted that he just didn't have it in him to put up with them anymore. His friends, who had made fun of him relentlessly for dating the "crazy Herculean tomboy", had finally gotten to him. She realized the morning he left that she was not worth it. Was not worth it to love. Was not worth anything.

Not where she was, at least. She flipped past the 11th page story about teenagers and technology and straight to the classified ads. The Azabu-Juban district was two sections above her own, and there were only four ads about places for sale or for rent. A big house on a hill; a small house right outside a metropolitan area; a beat up shabby trailer in someone's front yard; finally, a one bedroom apartment in a high rise that was available to anyone living on government assistance.

Despite not wanting to be around it all day, should it lead to temptation, Makoto ran to her bedroom to grab her phone, dialing the number listed in the paper and hoping it was still open.

To her relief, the voice on the other side of the phone said that they had numerous apartments open and would be glad to work out something with her and the government employee that was assigned to her case. She ended the phone call in an excited smile, her earlier worries about breaking her lease somewhat expelled, if not simply pushed to the back of her mind.

She was determined to figure out why she had such a nostalgic feeling whenever the Juban district was brought up, and the way that strange bun-haired girl struck a deep feeling of… something inside her. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe it _was_ something. She'd have to find out.

Makoto would have to face himat school for the next week, but the bit of hope in her heart told her she could do it, no matter how much it hurt. She was meant to be elsewhere, and she would make it there, no matter what.


End file.
